


fragments

by brawler



Category: Dead Space (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Post-DS3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26130721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brawler/pseuds/brawler
Summary: When everything else was falling apart, when the Marker’s influence ensured any other man would be tearing himself apart at the seams, Isaac managed to soldier on, to push past it, somehow keeping himself sane and grounded enough he came out the other side still breathing, even if he didn’t feel alive.God, Isaac hasn’t felt alive in years.
Relationships: John Carver/Isaac Clarke
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	fragments

Carver’s just gotten back from a shift when he sees them, all the pamphlets and junk mail and scraps of paper sprawled out across the table. He doesn’t have to get close to recognise the scrawling on them. It’s the symbols — the same ones he’s seen on the Markers, the same ones he sees in his nightmares, all the visions. He doesn’t understand what they say, he never did, but their shapes are still familiar all written in red; there’s what looks to be specific phrases and words repeated across the paper, even extended onto the table’s surface beneath it when it seems like there wasn’t enough room left on the page. There’s a notebook sitting there too. Carver takes it and starts to flip through it, and feels something drop in his gut when he realises most of the pages are full of this writing, with detailed sketches of Markers occasionally interspersed between it all, until it stops abruptly towards the back, only filling half the page. He can see indents on the paper though, like the pen was being pressed down hard to etch more symbols to fill in the blank space, hard enough it’s torn through a couple pages.

“You’re back early.”

The voice that comes from behind Carver almost makes him jump. He turns back to see Isaac closing the distance between them as he approaches the table. Carver immediately notices he looks dishevelled and tired, and he might have joked about how he looked like hell if it were any other situation, but Carver sees the expression on his face, forlorn and weary, and bites his tongue.

“The site was quiet. Supervisor said I could go home if I wanted to, Isaac—what is this?” he asks, looking down at the notebook in his hand then back up at Isaac.

“They’ve been in my head ever since I left the Sprawl,” Isaac starts. His voice is soft. “I see them everywhere, all the time. When I’m…trying to read signs on the street, when I close my eyes to sleep…they’re there.”

Carver places the notebook back and stares at him silently, waiting for him to continue. Isaac’s facing him but he’s looking away, down at the table.

“It gets too much sometimes. I have to get them out, I…I have to write them down. Make them disappear for a while.”

There’s this look on Isaac’s face now, one Carver doesn’t quite recognise. At first he thought it might be fear, but he realised it was closer resembling disgust. _At what,_ Carver thinks, _himself or the Markers?_

Isaac inhales slowly, exhales, breathes out the words, “I hate it.” He closes his eyes and lifts his hand to hold his forehead. “I want them gone but they’re always there.”

Carver doesn’t really know what to say, so he just extends a comforting hand to hold Isaac’s shoulder. Isaac appreciates the gesture, expresses this by holding his own hand over Carver’s to squeeze it gently, and leaning into him a little bit.

“I don’t know what to do,” Isaac continues. “We killed the moon. Stopped the Necromorphs, but they’re still there, this shit—“

A sudden constricting pain shoots through Isaac’s head, as if even just thinking about it is too overwhelming, and he bows it, grimacing as he bears it. Carver has both hands on him now, cautiously steadying him. Isaac speaks again, teeth bared, brow knitted. “God, I—how do I get rid of it, Carver?”

“Isaac, I…” Carver doesn’t know where to even begin to answer him so he trails off, but he still tries to work it out in his head. He comes to a realisation of just how scot-free the Markers had left him compared to Isaac, how he was simply toyed with; haunted by those visions of Damara and Dylan, the gruesome visages of people he loved, twisted and corrupted by Marker hands. It hurt, hurt to think about, hurt to remember, but with Isaac it was something much more physical. The red Marker on Aegis VII — it touched him, used him, imprinted itself onto him, left him scarred more than just emotionally. It was like it left a little piece of itself _inside_ him and he wanted so desperately to try and carve it out, to finally rid himself of the nightmare once and for all. But Carver assumes there’s probably only one way he could do that, and it’s not very pleasant. He admires him, really. Isaac’s resilience is the reason he’s still here, standing in the dining room of the shitty little one-bedroom apartment they call their own, months after they last set foot on that godforsaken ball of ice. When everything else was falling apart, when the Marker’s influence ensured any other man would be tearing himself apart at the seams, Isaac managed to soldier on, to push past it, somehow keeping himself sane and grounded enough he came out the other side still breathing, even if he didn’t feel alive.

God, Isaac hasn’t felt alive in years.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” Carver asks, brow furrowing in concern.

Isaac sighs and shakes his head. “I keep…trying to ignore it, like it’ll ever fucking go away. It hurts.”

“It’ll get better,” Carver says after a few moments, but if he's being honest with himself, he’s not sure if that’s actually true. The nightmares about his wife and child definitely haven’t gone away, but he has to hope that one day he’ll be able to wake up feeling rested and relieved. He doesn’t know how he could cope if he didn't have that to cling onto, if almost nothing else. “It has to. We went through all that shit, it’s gotta mean something, right? We can’t have done it all for nothing.”

Isaac looks him in the eyes as he considers it. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t believe it. And he hates it, hates that even after he’s managed to survive everything that’s been thrown at him he still feels like there’s no hope at the end of this long, painful tunnel of shit. But he can pretend to believe it, at least. He owes himself that much.

“Yeah, sure,” Isaac says simply, as he looks away from Carver. There’s a little bit of uncertainty in his voice that he tries to hide. He hopes Carver doesn’t pick up on it but of course, he does.

“Hey, we gotta believe it’ll be fine,” Carver shakes him gently as he speaks. “We’d go fuckin’ crazy otherwise, right? Or worse.”

“I’m just…” Isaac trails off. He shakes his head again. “I’m just tired, Carver. I’m tired. I want it to be over.”

Isaac’s looking at him now, and Carver can see the exhaustion in his eyes; they’re dull and glassy, all worn out. Carver nods solemnly.

“Yeah, me too,” he says softly.

There’s a moment of mutual silence between them, then Isaac leans into him. Carver reciprocates by letting Isaac settle and rest his head against the crook of his neck. Isaac wraps his arms around Carver, fingers grasping the soft fabric of his sweatshirt, with Carver doing the same to him. Isaac closes his eyes, letting himself relax as Carver holds him there. The gesture might not be the cure-all to Isaac’s problems that he would love for it to be, but it definitely helps ease the throbbing in his head. And Carver’s cheap aftershave might not be one of the most favourable scents, but it’s comforting and familiar. Isaac inhales deep and sighs, lets the smell of him flood his head. Carver lets Isaac stand there like that for as long as he needs to, running small, soothing circles over his back with his hand, and Isaac’s grateful for it. The throbbing in his head starts to fade, and gradually, Isaac feels like he can stand on his own two feet again. But he’s reluctant to move away, instead wishing he could stay like this forever.

Carver would let him if he asked.

Eventually, though, Isaac does pull back.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” he says. The pain’s gone, but it’s been replaced by a kind of exhaustion he can feel deep in his bones. He just wants to lie down, have this afternoon be over with. “You coming?”

Carver nods. When Isaac turns to walk to the bathroom, Carver tails close behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> really wish they actually delved into isaac's trauma and the effects of what he endured while he was on the sprawl in dead space 3 i really really wish


End file.
